Feilds, streams, ponds and lakesSmells of pine,rain and musks of stinkBeavers, raccoons, fox, deer and little minkTo you these things the trapline yeildsUp at three and and the door by fourFur and meat we run for moreWalking, splashing and sometimes sinking tooFurshed and woodstove we look forward toFor all these things the trapline gives to us